


brighter than sunshine

by rire



Series: MidoAka Month 2015 [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Domestic, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rire/pseuds/rire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But right now Akashi’s eyes are the early sun of a spring day. They’re wide, expectant, looking up at Midorima as if he is the only thing that matters in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	brighter than sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> For MidoAka month on tumblr- Theme: Passion
> 
> There is not nearly enough fluffy MidoAka porn in this world, and this theme was the perfect excuse to write one.

It’s a lazy afternoon, the kind where the pleasant, languid glow of the sun bathes the house in light and seeps into their skin. Their limbs are tangled on the bed, sheets cast aside, the pale skin of Akashi’s legs warm as they rub against his. A sliver of light from the half-closed blinds caresses Akashi’s cheek, making his jawline glow. Midorima presses his head into the crook of Akashi’s neck and sucks and licks gently, dragging his tongue over the spot just behind Akashi’s ear. He draws a soft, breathy groan from Akashi, his fingers curling into the sheets, and Midorima smiles to himself.

They haven’t had this kind of time to themselves in a long while. It’s quite bothersome that their other priorities manage to snatch them away from each other when they are, in truth, each other’s top priority. But work is work, and a rare mutual day off is to be treasured.

The boy lying underneath him is to be treasured, and that Midorima does. He remembers when they really were both boys, young and naive and making all the wrong steps until they realized that the other’s hand was there to hold the entire time. He remembers a time when Akashi’s eyes were ice, aloof and distant, condescending and proud—remembers a time when they were fire, too, blazing with such intense passion as he pressed close against Midorima and dragged pleasured cries out of him. But right now Akashi’s eyes are the early sun of a spring day. They’re wide, expectant, looking up at Midorima as if he is the only thing that matters in the world, as if they are frozen in time, the humming of the fridge and the faint buzzing of cars in the street below drowned out entirely by their steady, pulsing heartbeats.

Carefully, Midorima unbuttons the last few buttons of his own shirt that Akashi is somehow wearing. Not that he minds, for it ends up crumpled on the floor as it always does.

“Mm,” Akashi whimpers as Midorima spreads his thighs further apart and closes his hand around his half-hard cock. The noise goes straight to Midorima’s cock, and he slides down the bed and gets to work.

He presses a kiss to the tip first, watching with satisfaction as the blood rushes to Akashi’s face, then swirling his tongue over the head in deliberate, slow circles. Akashi’s breathy moans sound like a secret half-whispered for his ears only.

He takes Akashi all the way in. They’ve done this long enough that one might think it had gotten old, but it has only gotten better. He’s memorized every curve of Akashi’s body like a map. He knows the valleys of his collarbones, the rivers of his translucent veins, knows the sensitive spots on his cock to press his tongue just a little bit harder that will get Akashi to stop holding back, to buck his hips up into Midorima’s mouth and for his toes to curl, suspended in mid-air.

“I want you,” Akashi breathes, voice shaky, almost desperate. “I want you, I want you, I— oh—”

He trails off in a gasp when Midorima slips a finger, tapings off and coated with lube, inside of him. He moves it in and out, adds more, bites his lip when Akashi tightens around him and his moans increase in frequency and pitch. It had taken a while, a long while, to get Akashi to the point where he was unabashedly vocal, but Midorima loved it.

“Feel good?” he asks, and Akashi gives a nod in reply. His cheeks are flushed and his fingers clutching at the sheets like a lifeline.

Akashi is gorgeous like this, the red of his hair and eyes practically glowing, his pale, smooth limbs quivering as his chest rises and falls. Looking at him, Midorima feels something well up inside of his chest. When he thinks of all the ways their paths have veered off sharply only to, finally, merge back together again, he feels inexplicably lucky. There’s so much affection inside of him that it feels as if he may burst.

“Please, Shintarou,” Akashi whimpers. And Midorima wants to take it slow, but he needs—and so he lifts Akashi’s legs over his shoulder and pushes inside, groaning low in his throat as the tight heat surrounds him.

It feels good, feels amazing, as it does every time. It doesn’t take long for him to lose himself inside Akashi, jerking his hips back and forth, back and forth, a steady and relentless rhythm. His whole body burns, moving practically of its own accord as he gasps and groans into the curve of Akashi’s shoulder. He traces Akashi’s collarbone with his lips, and it tastes like sweat. He strokes Akashi’s sides all the way down to his hips and keeps a hold there. Akashi fists a hand in Midorima’s hair, tilting his face at an angle and meeting his lips in his own. Midorima swallows each of Akashi’s hot, breathy moans and replaces them with his own.

He pushes harder, faster, seeking release and finding it in the way Akashi lets out a strangled cry and tightens around him. He can feel Akashi’s orgasm shuddering through him, in the way he wraps shaking arms around the back of Midorima’s neck, the way his back arches clean off the bed, the way he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure and a single tear slips down his cheek. He follows not long after, seeing white as he pushes in, pushes himself to the edge, cock pulsing and filling Akashi.

He pulls out and rolls over on his side, lazy and slow. Akashi, naturally, snuggles closer. Midorima wipes the trail of Akashi’s tear away with gentle fingers, and Akashi buries his face in Midorima’s chest. His fingers curl soft like smoke into Midorima’s unbuttoned shirt. They smell like sweat and laundry detergent and the sun, which is still glowing, as are Akashi’s eyes when he stares up at Midorima.

They don’t say anything, because they don’t have to. Everything about Akashi radiates just three words and Midorima feels the same words pulsing inside him, racing through his mind and heart and body. The satisfied, almost dreamy smile on Akashi’s face draws Midorima in and he can’t resist planting a kiss on the corner of his lips. Akashi chuckles softly at that and curls himself against Midorima’s side like he belongs, because he does, oh, he does, and he always has and always will.

 

**Author's Note:**

> MidoAka month is still running, feel free to submit if you're interested! http://midoaka-month.tumblr.com
> 
> And here's my tumblr as well: http://akashintarou.tumblr.com


End file.
